


"He Is."

by youubi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Monologue, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, and gon and killua wonder whats up with the angst, basically leorio describes kurapika in the best way he can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youubi/pseuds/youubi
Summary: How can Leorio describe something so complicated in the matter of a few words? How can he describe something as enigmatic and wonderful as Kurapika? Because he just... Well, he just, is.{ In which Leorio tries to describe how he feels about Kurapika and several different scenes. }{ Emotional monologue and a Character Study of both Leorio and Kurapika and their relationship dynamic. }{ I apologize in advance. }





	

Kurapika was and has always been beautiful to Leorio.

 

The last Kurta was everything and nothing, the world and the abyss, death-defying and breath-taking.

 

From the way Kurapika would tuck locks of sun-kissed hair behind delicate seashell shaped ears to the way his eyes would wrinkle just a bit at the corners while he was smiling, or maybe the fear-striking passion that could be seen in rage-induced blood-lust hued eyes to the grace and pride the boy would carry, lashing with silver colored cold death.

 

Leorio wished he could describe how he felt in more eloquent terms. To comfort himself and describe this furious figure, an angel with no God.

 

A survivor and fighter of a lost clan, a martyr fighting for pride and revenge, but a mere boy with a cracked soul and a broken heart.

 

Leorio was reminded of this every time he saw Kurapika chortle with that bubbling laugh of his, one that seems to start from the bottom of the throat and reverberates to your toes. Or when the boy would look fondly at a certain snow-soot haired duo, those eyes that once held such a piercing red instead colored a soft color, the same color of the shade of a cool rock and full of a paternal look.

 

He was an enigma with a voice as clear as a spring, a sound that carries his words like water across air.

 

He was a refreshing sip of iced coffee on a summer’s day, the pattering of rain on a tiled rooftop, the touch of a cool velvety pillow that had just been flipped, the soft scent of juniper and pine.

 

Leorio couldn’t remember when he had first fallen in love.

 

Was it when Kurapika had approached him on that lonely island, a piece of plastic with numbers written upon it tucked between two slender figures, a plastic that was worthless to the world but meant a world of worth to him?

 

Or perhaps when he heard of that endearingly soft voice of his through the phone that one fateful afternoon of their reunion, saying Leorio’s name with such affection it had caused said man’s chest to constrict in an oddly pleasant way?

 

Perhaps it was when the statuesque Kurta uttered his most guarded secret to him and the boys, eyes open and resounding with the resolve he carried to avenge his forsaken clan.

 

God, Leorio was so in love. He had fallen hard and fast, in the way that made your breath shorten and your palms sweaty, a way that would make you glance at that certain someone every couple of moments just to see if they were watching you, and if they were you would look away with a laugh and pass it off as a glance at the clock or something like that.

 

The way that made you giddy whenever that certain someone was around, made you long to speak with them but at the same time you were so afraid that you would _mess up_ somehow around them.

 

That sort of love when that someone would take your hands and comment on their largeness or gentleness it would make you tear-up because you want to reach out and touch their cheek but you just _can’t_ because you’re afraid of breaking this broken person in front of you and whatever closeness you have with them. Like, wanting to approach a singing songbird but being too afraid it will fly away.

 

\---

 

“Why do you look at me like that, Leorio?” Kurapika had asked him once.

 

“What? What do you mean?”

 

Steady grey eyes glanced into bespectacled brown ones.

 

“Like just now, Leorio. Like, I am going to go away or something of the same issue.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you going away. Pfft! What a laugh, you’d never leave, you’d be too worried about me folding my laundry wrong or something weird like that to leave. Right?”

 

Kurapika looked away. Leorio felt his heart stop for a moment.

 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d be too worried for Gon and Killua as well. Sorry for asking such a ludicrous question.”

 

Leorio had noticed that Kurapika’s hair had grown long enough to just brush against the Kurta’s shoulders. What an extraneous detail to notice then.

 

“Yeah, right? Just focus on your reading.”

 

They had dropped the subject with no further issue.

 

Leorio felt wrong.

 

\---

 

Leorio knew nearly all of Kurapika’s habits by the time they had finished the Hunter examination, if merely through observation.

 

Kurapika had the habit of tucking hair behind his ear when he was nervous.

 

He wrung his hands when he thought no one was looking.

 

When eating at a table, Kurapika tended to tuck his silverware in a napkin before setting it on the table. He would always keep two napkins by his side for this very reason, one to tuck silverware in, the other to use himself.

 

Kurapika’s favorite color was blue. His least favorite color was red.

 

On restless nights the Kurta seemed to sleep-talk. Short and unimportant phrases. Jumbled words that made no sense to the common listener.

 

Leorio remembered each and every one of them. Each word.

 

Supercilious. Effervescent. Granular.

 

Pairo.

 

\---

 

Killua and Gon had approached during the day the group had reunited in that part at that park in Yorknew. The sidewalk was a patchwork of quilt sewn by the leaves with the sun as their thread, the quilt squares moving with the wind. Leorio sniffed. The description was a bit sappy.

 

“What do you think of Kurapika?” Gon had asked casually enough, Killua standing a short ways beside him.

 

Leorio lifted a brow. “Why do you ask?” He had a habit of answering questions with more questions, he had observed.

 

Gon replied with a shrug, glancing back at Killua. The white-haired boy merely shrugged himself in response, blue eyes wide.

 

“I dunno, Killua and I thought it was a good idea to ask.” Gon spoke slowly, eyes blinking innocently.

 

Leorio lowered the metallic frames sitting upon the bridge of his nose to peer at Gon. “Well, Kurapika is pretty smart and strong, I guess. Dedicated. Anything else you need?”

 

The black-haired boy looked back at Killua with worried eyes. Killua just shrugged once more.

 

“No, nothing else, sorry for bothering you, Leorio!” With that the two boys had run off, whispering to themselves.

 

Leorio felt a small pang in his chest for some reason.

 

\---

 

Leorio sometimes could feel like a lion. Brave, proud, and stubborn, mane shaking and eyes glinting, a mighty roar leaving the maw of his lips, jaws open and fangs gleaming. He could approach anyone and win, fight anything and succeed, his hands large paws and his muscular body a powerful feline in movement.

 

But in reality, when he watched Kurapika run farther and farther ahead of him, the one he seemed to never catch up to, a boy who fought with techniques that Leorio could only dream of mastering, he can feel his lion chained, muzzled, leashed to the restrictions that seem to stop him from reaching out and following his friends.

 

It frustrated him.

 

It pained him.

 

He felt so helpless.

 

\---

 

Kurapika picked at his food when he was upset.

 

Leorio knew that much, at least, when they were on the island together during the hunter exam in which the hunter examinees were hunting one another for different numbered badges.

 

The older-looking teen watched as Kurapika used a finger to pick at the small ration of food that they had been able to procure during the day despondently, eyes hooded and blond wisps of hair curling around the boy’s ears (they weren’t long enough to frame Kurapika’s face then, Leorio thinks back now with a slight squeeze of the stomach).

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Kurapika had twitched slightly, looking up from the small portion of meat and shaking his head. Grey eyes peered up at Leorio, blank and oddly dull for the young male.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Leorio scoffed, moving to brush whatever bits of food he had left in his hands into his mouth (everything must be eaten, they couldn’t risk attracting predators) before standing, hands on his lanky hips.

 

“You’re not eating and you didn’t notice me call your name earlier, something is _definitely_ wrong.”

 

Kurapika raised a brow, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

 

“That’s oddly observant of you. You can actually see through those shaded lens of yours, I really doubted it earlier.”

 

Leorio spluttered, his gestures wild and body posture leaning back in mock shock.

 

“Me? Being ignorant? That’s funny! I’m a lot smarter than I look, I _am_ trying to be a doctor after all!”

 

Kurapika had merely chuckled, looking back at his meat portion before wrapping it neatly in a small piece of cloth and setting it in the bag ever present at his hip.

 

“Yeah, I do suppose you have a point.”

 

The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The answer was much too reserved for something he would have expected from Kurapika.

 

“So, what’s up?” Leorio continued to probe, leaning back against the bark of a nearby tree

 

Kurapika didn’t miss a beat, answering easily, “Nothing, I was just thinking.”

 

“Thinking about what?”

 

“Just things.”

 

“What sort of things?”

 

“Important things, things that matter to me but no one else.”

 

Leorio blinked.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Kurapika crinkled his nose, a smile once more on his lips.

 

“Nothing, just forget about it. It does not really involve you.”

 

Leorio didn’t push beyond that, Kurapika looked much too fragile for his own comfort for him to keep poking at an obviously sensitive subject.

 

He didn’t want to break this already cracked person.

 

\---

 

Killua looked up from the bit of chocolate he had been nibbling off, bright, piercing, much-too-observant eyes glancing at the two parental figures of their group.

 

Gon followed his friend’s gaze, fingers stopping for a moment from their picking of fishing twine, the thread tangled in his hands.

 

“Why do you think they don’t talk to each other as much as we do?”

 

Gon blinked at Killua’s question, eyes wide and clear as he glanced at Leorio and Kurapika bickering over some issue or another.

 

“They talk a lot, I think, what do you mean that they don’t?”

 

Killua glanced at Gon, finger pushing the last of the chocolate into his open mouth and rolling the piece in his mouth with his tongue, feeling the rich candy melt into a sweet liquid.

 

“I don’t mean just _regular_ talking, like…” Killua trailed off, moving to cross his legs and rest his pale hands on bruised knees. “When we talk about my family or about your dad or something. That kinda talking.”

Gon’s eyelids fluttered once more, his small nose wrinkling a bit in thought.

 

“I guess I know what you’re talking about now? I dunno, Killua, maybe they don’t want to talk about things like that with each other.”

 

Killua groaned, tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowed in his own way of thought and arms crossed across his skinny chest.

 

“Do you think that’s it? I think it’s more like… They’re afraid to talk to each other about stuff like that.”

 

The dark-haired one of the pair hummed, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead, hands still on the tangled fishing twine in his stubby fingers.

 

“Really? But why?”

 

Killua straightened, now raising a finger to scratch his cheeks.

 

“I dunno, it’s just a guess.”

 

Gon turned his head to stare at the two older members of their group, face contorted as if he was trying to scan the two young adults with a scanner in his mind.

 

“I…. I don’t really understand.”

 

The snowy-haired boy next to Gon shrugged, raising both arms and falling back onto the springy grass of the field they were sitting in.

 

“Never mind, just forget about it.”

 

\---

 

Leorio could never really understand revenge himself.

 

While he did not have the most wonderful of childhoods he did not have a true enemy to look to in life to post such grudges against.

 

Sure, his friend had died, but the killer had been disease and poor health. Leorio didn’t have the heart to post the blame to any single person or on fate. It was just poor timing and poor luck, something that Leorio could not control at the time.

 

Now that he was old enough to make his own decisions and make an impact on the world, he was taking steps to avoid the tragedy that had befallen Pietro.

 

To think that the person of his admiration was driven solely by revenge puzzled him.

 

How could such a complicated person have such a simple motivation?

 

It was like defining the life force keeping a rose alive to be just water.

 

Or, perhaps, the source of the beautiful art produced from an artist was merely the inspiration of a single color of paint.

 

But, Leorio supposed, the whole notion wasn’t entirely impossible.

 

He had pondered this conclusion while watching Kurapika explain to the boys the differences between crocodiles and alligators with a smile gracing the Kurta’s face.

 

\---

 

There were five things that Leorio liked in particular about Kurapika’s appearance in specifics.

 

First, the way the edge of Kurapika’s eyes crinkled softly when he was smiling. It was a gentle movement, minute and barely noticeable unless you were looking closely. It acted as some ghost of a hint of Kurapika’s moments spent smiling.

 

Second, the soft, golden hair that felt as soft as it looked, wispy and light, near transparent when looked in the sun. The ends were long damaged by the sun, but the hair was quite obviously well-tended for by its owner, well brushed and often combed through with a barely registrable sigh.

 

Third, the well-tapered shape of Kurapika’s shoulders, visible through the young man’s traditional clothes. The way you could clearly see supple muscle ripple through that lean body, powerful and graceful in a way Leorio could never be, felt enthralling.

 

Fourth, the Kurta’s strong and emotional eyes, feline and as sharp as their owner. Despite being windows to the soul, Kurapika’s were more akin to a mirror, reflecting the quizzical face of anyone curious or brave enough to approach the powerful survivor. His eyes, which were both a blessing and a curse to their owner, piercing either when at their natural color or the color of his clansmen.

 

Finally, Kurapika’s slender hands, their grace and the tapered fingers, ligaments meant for piano-playing or to be ink-stained with scribing down thoughts of their owner. Instead, they were often pained with purples and blues of bruises from enemies of the past.

 

Leorio longed to kiss each one and will them away with a prayer.

 

\---

 

“Do you think they hate me?”

 

Leorio rocked slowly, this broken, beautiful man in his arms.

 

“Who, Kurapika? Tell me, talk to me.”

 

Kurapika coughed weakly, eyes fluttering open for a moment before shutting tiredly, those bruised, beautiful hands curling next to a rapidly breathing chest. Leorio felt the heartbeat of a hummingbird.

 

“My family, my clan. I wasn’t there, Leorio, I _wasn’t there_ for them—“

 

“Ssh, ssh, it’s not your fault. You weren’t there. You didn’t know.”

 

Leorio felt his nose sting and his stomach clench in fear as he looked down to stroke at those flushed, beautiful cheeks of an ill person, teeth gritting against one another as he willed his heart out of his throat and back to his chest where it belonged.

 

“But, if I hadn’t insisted on going out of our territory, maybe I could have _done_ something.”

 

And this fading, beautiful Kurta sobbed, blaming himself for something that wasn’t his to blame.

 

And Leorio felt another part of his heart attach itself to this wonderful, beautiful, and deadly person.

 

The dark-haired man swore never to let Kurapika overuse his clan’s curse ever again.

 

\---

 

Kurapika was and has always been beautiful to Leorio.

 

The last Kurta was nothing and everything, the abyss and the world, a man broken and trembling.

 

A swan during its final dance with death, face bent towards the heavens and wings fluttering as it croaked its final song. Red-eyed and furious, full of grief and regret, a tear-invoking enigma that carried death on his shoulders like the chauffeur of the end.

 

Leorio wished he could describe how he felt in more eloquent terms. He wished he had better words to describe this harbinger of hope and despair, how he induced the strangest and most unique of feelings in the soul of a man who had lost vision in the world of money.

 

A survivor and fighter of a lost clan, a martyr fighting with cracked bones and bloody teeth, but a caring friend with a big heart and a smile that comforts others.

 

Leorio knew him, that boy with the laugh of streams and the smile that made you feel comparable to feathery down. The man with the gentle eyes and the gentler hands that brushed his own in private corners and those soft lips that mouthed messages that only they could see. The one that could make him smile or frown in the span of a heartbeat, and make that heartbeat as quick as a flutter of his eyelashes or the lethal speed of silver chains.

 

He was a mystery with a voice as smooth as silk, a sound that resounds in one’s ears with the powerful reverberation of a beast’s roar.

 

He was a refreshing sip of warm tea on a winter’s night, the strength of hail on the rough pavement, the warm lick of a flame from a campfire on a cool campsite, the refreshing scent of the lapping ocean waves and the salt-laden air.

 

Leorio couldn’t remember when he had first fallen in love.

 

Neither could he remember when he had first realized that he can never let go of this strong, broken, beautiful person.

 

Perhaps it was when Kurapika had taken him by the hand firmly one day, eyes averted shyly to the ground and normally pale cheeks flushed with color.

 

Or perhaps it was when Kurapika had reached up to stroke a hand along Leorio’s cheek, brows crooked with concern and eyes wide with worry.

 

Either which way, Leorio felt absolutely wonderful.

 

**Author's Note:**

> { music that inspired me:  
> "She Is" -- Jonghyun  
> "Please Don't Go" -- Joel Adams }
> 
> A character study of the wonderful dynamic between Leorio and Kurapika. Based off both the 1999 and 2011 anime, descriptions and snippets derived from both. I will, perhaps, write a second part based off of Kurapika's POV depending on the feedback of this one. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Unbeta-d and unedited, written in the span of a month due to different business of life.
> 
> ( tumblr: sugaw4ra / insta: youubi / deviant and paigee: youubi )


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